


Better For Us (If You Don't Understand)

by ConceptaDecency



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Baby Garak, Canonical Child Abuse, F/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Canon Cardassia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 22:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: Elim could lie. He knows what a lie is, too. It’s easy, usually. You just tell someone something, like that you haven’t been eating the kana jelly when actually you have, and then they think that you haven’t been eating the kana jelly. You don’t need to always tell people what is real because most people don’t know what is in your head.But it’s impossible to lie to Uncle Enabran. He always knows what’s in Elim’s head.“Yes,” says Elim in a low voice.“‘Yes’ what?”“Yes, I was trying to kill you, Uncle.”





	Better For Us (If You Don't Understand)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning - this is a story about Elim Garak's childhood, so there is necessarily some child abuse, but I don't think it goes much beyond what has already been established in canon. If I'm wrong I hope people will let me know in the comments. 
> 
> Slight spoiler below...
> 
> There is also, briefly, a sexual situation that a very small child stumbles into accidentally and completely misinterprets. I think it's fairly innocent and not really connected to the previously mentioned abuse, but if I'm wrong I hope someone will kindly let me know.

It is dark and he is alone. Mila’s bed, on the other side of the room, is empty. It used to be his bed too, but now he is too big to share a bed with his mother and so he sleeps in his own bed over here. Sometimes he misses Mila’s warmth and her arms around him when he wakes in the night, but mostly he’s happy to be big. 

But even though he is big, he wishes she were here now, because he can hear strange noises. If she were here, she would tell him what the noises were, and they would probably not be scary any more. He wonders how long he will need to wait for her to come to bed so that he can ask. Then a terrifying thought springs into his head. What if Mila is in trouble? Maybe that’s the reason she isn’t in the room with him like she usually is. He wraps his blanket tighter around himself. What should he do? He and Mila have agreed that, now that he is big and has his own bed, he shouldn’t leave the bed at night, unless he has to go to the toilet, of course. But that is for normal times. This is not a normal time. He has never woken up in the night and not found Mila near him.

There’s only one thing to do. Go and see if he can find Mila. He slips barefoot out of bed and pads slowly to the door. He doesn’t turn on any lights, even though the dark is scary. The door is closed but not shut properly, so he only needs to push it gently to exit the bedroom. Once he’s in the short corridor, he can see some light coming from the kitchen. He walks softly towards it. It’s silent in the house. Maybe the noises have stopped? Maybe it’s all okay? But then he hears another noise. Louder and scarier than any of the others. It sounds like an animal, a giant scary animal, and it’s coming from the kitchen. His heart pounds but he doesn’t stop. Maybe the animal has Mila trapped and he will have to chase it away. He’s big now, so he can do it. 

He peeks around the kitchen door, but he doesn’t see an animal. He sees Uncle Enabran on the floor. This is very strange. Uncle Enabran lives upstairs and Elim and Mila live downstairs, in the basement, and Uncle Enabran never comes downstairs. They always go upstairs when Uncle wants to talk to them.

Uncle Enabran is doing something. It takes Elim a moment to realise what he’s seeing. Mila is there too, but Elim doesn’t see her at first because she is under Uncle Enabran. She is lying on the floor and Uncle is lying on top of her. Uncle is making strange noises, and Mila is shouting and throwing her head back. It’s very scary, what Uncle is doing. He’s hurting Mila. 

Elim sees red. He’s afraid of Uncle Enabran, but he has to stop him from hurting his mother. Before he knows what he’s doing he launches himself at Uncle Enabran and wraps his arms around Uncle’s neck. He squeezes. Hard. 

Uncle roars and shoots up. He thrashes around but Elim manages to hold on. He has to - he is now very high off the floor.

“Stop hurting her,” he shouts. 

“Elim!” Mila looks surprised to see him. But not happy.

“Mama!” No, a mistake. Only babies call their mothers ‘Mama’. “Mila!” 

She stands but does not run away. Why, when Uncle was hurting her so much? 

A final shake from Uncle loosens Elim and he begins to slip to the floor. Before he can fall all the way down, Uncle catches him by the arm, wrenching it painfully, and pulls him around. Elim finds himself suspended in the air by the collar of his pyjamas. Uncle Enabran is holding him above the ground with one arm. Shrieking in rage, he swings and kicks futilely at Uncle, but this only twists his collar uncomfortably around his neck. He coughs.

“Elim! Be still. Uncle was not hurting me.”

At this, Elim stops trying to hit and kick Uncle Enabran. He glares as best he can as he twists and turns in Uncle’s grip.

“Why are you out of bed?” Mila’s voice is angry and Elim knows he has made a mistake.

“I heard a noise,” he says, and avoids looking at both of their faces. 

Uncle gives him a shake.

“Were you trying to kill me, boy?”

He knows what kill is. Kill is when you make someone dead, and dead is when someone falls on the ground and stops moving, like they’re sleeping, except they don’t wake up for a long, long time. Maybe never. Yes, he was trying to kill Uncle Enabran, because if he could make Uncle dead on the ground then he would stop hurting Mila. He looks at his feet. But kill is a bad thing. It was bad to try to kill Uncle Enabran, and Uncle Enabran won’t be happy to know that Elim wanted him dead. Elim could lie. He knows what a lie is, too. It’s easy, usually. You just tell someone something, like that you haven’t been eating the kana jelly when actually you have, and then they think that you haven’t been eating the kana jelly. You don’t need to always tell people what is real because most people don’t know what is in your head. But it’s impossible to lie to Uncle Enabran. He always knows what’s in Elim’s head. 

“Yes,” says Elim in a low voice.

“‘Yes’ what?”

“Yes, I was trying to kill you, Uncle.” 

Uncle Enabran laughs. Elim looks up, confused. It’s not funny, is it? The characters in his holostories try to kill each other sometimes and nobody laughs. They just get angry or scared. It’s bad or sad or scary to be killed, not funny.

“You didn’t manage to kill me, though, did you?”

“No, Uncle.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you stopped me.” 

“That’s right. And why was I able to stop you?”

Elim thinks for a minute.

“Because you’re bigger than me.”

“Very good. So why did you try to kill me that way, by jumping on my back?”

Elim doesn’t know the answer to that. He looks to his mother. She just raises her eye ridges and shakes her head. Elim knows he’d better answer quickly or Uncle Enabran will get angry. 

“I don’t know.” He looks down again. Uncle Enabran won’t like that answer. Elim is always supposed to know why he does things. But it’s better than staying quiet. 

Uncle Enabran shakes him by the collar. Elim hears a ripping sound, and he falls a little bit, but then stops. His feet still dangle above the floor. 

“Look at me, Elim.” Elim looks. “You’re little and I’m big. You tried to kill me and I stopped you easily. What would you do now, if you were me?” 

That’s easy. “Kill me back.” He wonders what it’ll be like to be dead. He hopes it won’t hurt.

“Enabran...,” says Mila, “he’s still a baby. He doesn’t understand.” 

Elim shoots his mother a hurt look. How can she say that? He’s _not_ a baby! He even sleeps in his own bed now, and he has never cried about it, not once, and yesterday he poured his own rokassa juice from the big jug and didn’t spill even a little bit. 

“Are you still a baby, Elim?” 

“No, Uncle!”

“No, you aren’t. You’re old enough to kill or be killed.”

“...yes.”

“Elim, how do you think your mother would feel if I killed you?”

Elim looks at his mother again. 

“She’d be sad. And angry at you.” 

“I think so too. So I won’t kill you now.” 

“Yes, Uncle.” 

“But remember, next time you try to kill someone, make sure you finish the job.” 

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Why?”

“Because they will try to kill me back.” 

“Exactly.” 

Uncle gives Elim another shake. Elim knows this is the end of the lesson, so he wriggles free and drops to the ground, leaving his pyjama top in Uncle Enabran’s hand. He runs over to his mother. He wants to cry but he doesn’t, because he’s not a baby. Instead he buries his hot face in Mila’s skirt. She smells sweet, the way she always smells. Mila rests her hand on his head. She strokes his hair and he feels a little better. 

“Go back to bed, Elim,” she says gently. “Uncle and I have some things to talk about.”

Elim doesn’t want to go back to bed. He wants to stay here forever, smelling the comforting smell, with his eyes closed and Mila’s hand on his head. And he wants Uncle to go away. So he stays where he is and says nothing.

“Elim…” Mila’s voice is less gentle but Elim still doesn’t want to go. He shakes his head, rubbing his face in the rough fabric of the skirt. “Elim Garak, I’ll have your scales for buttons if you don’t go back to bed right now.”

That is something Mila only says when she’s serious, so Elim reluctantly opens his eyes and lets go of the skirt. He turns around, eyes down, trying to pretend Uncle isn’t there, and walks towards the kitchen door. 

“Say goodnight to Uncle Enabran, Elim.”

Elim stops. He’s passed Uncle but he doesn’t turn around.

“Goodnight, Uncle Enabran.”

“Goodnight, Elim. Mind what I told you.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Dismissed, Elim continues. But he doesn’t go to his room. As soon as he is out of the kitchen, he slips to one side of the door, so that he is hidden from the adults. He wants to be near to his mother, just to hear her voice, even if he can’t touch her or smell her. What he’s doing now is a bit like lying. They can’t see him, so they can’t know where he is. He is delighted to have thought of it.

Mila is talking. 

“Enabran, he’s a bit young for that kind of lesson, don’t you think? His scales are still soft.” 

“You heard it from the boy’s own mouth, Mila. He’s not a baby. And that child can’t be taught too young. He’s in danger just because of who he is.” 

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am. He needs to be taught consequences and discipline. What was he doing out of bed, anyway?” 

“I told you, he’s having trouble adjusting to sleeping alone. He probably saw I wasn’t in the room and missed me. He’s very young to be sleeping outside the family bed. Most children his age still sleep with their parents.” 

“It’s amazing children his age have younger brothers and sisters, in that case. Can’t we send him to your sister’s for a week, like we did when he was an infant? He’ll be happy enough to be in his own bed when he gets back.” 

Elim wonders what it would be like to have a brother or sister. His friend Rokan, next door, has many. Including a sister called Heenen who is a real baby and can’t even walk or talk yet. Maybe now that he is big Mila will have another baby like Rokan’s mother did. He’s not sure if he’d like it or not.

“You know better than I do that we can’t do that anymore. It’s too dangerous. And I really don’t think it would help him adjust. He just needs time.” 

“Pity,” says Uncle. “I miss your visits upstairs.” Uncle’s voice is different. Elim realises he sounds...nice. He’s never nice when he talks to Elim. Sometimes he pretends to be nice, but it’s not real nice. He’s always mean underneath the nice. But he’s real nice with Mila. 

Mila is laughing. 

“Patience, Enabran. He’ll begin sleeping through the night soon. In fact, I’m not sure he’ll go wandering from his bed again until he’s grown, with the scare you gave him tonight.” 

Now Uncle is laughing too. Why? Being scared isn’t funny. 

“He deserved it, the little vole. After the scare _he_ gave _me_.” 

Is it possible that Elim scared Uncle Enabran tonight? He hadn’t thought that adults could get scared. They’re both laughing now. Is that how it is when you’re an adult? You think it’s funny to be scared? 

“Enabran, the look on your face when he jumped on your back...” Mila is laughing so hard now that she can barely talk. Elim still doesn’t understand what’s funny, but if she’s laughing it means his mother is happy, so that’s a good thing.

“The wildness of the boy. I don’t know where it comes from.” 

“Wildness or bravery? He did what he thought he had to do.” 

“Hmmmm. Either way, my back is suffering.”

“Come here, let me see. You know, if you spent more time with him you’d know he’s not a wild child.” 

“We’ll have to train it out of him.”

“What?”

“Bravery. It’s a foolish trait. It’ll get him killed one day.”

“Hmmmm. It’s not a Garak family trait, you know, so don’t blame me.” 

“Are you sassing me, woman?”

“What if I am?” 

Uncle hisses and there’s no more talking for a little while.

Then.

“Elim, do you want to sleep in the closet tonight?” Uncle’s voice is hard.

“…no, Uncle.” He didn’t know that Uncle had known he was there the whole time. But he should have. Uncle Enabran knows everything.

“Then go to your room, close the door, get into your bed, and do not leave it until morning.”

Elim runs. He does not want to sleep in the closet. He hates the closet. He closes the bedroom door tightly and climbs into bed and hides under the blankets. His arm hurts from where Uncle grabbed him and he’s confused and scared of being put in the closet and he wishes Mila was with him, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t know how long he stays this way. He’s still like this when he hears the door open and Mila coming towards him. She sits on the bed and the sink of her weight pulls him down towards her a little.

“Are you asleep, Elim?”

“…no. Mila, is Uncle going to put me in the closet tomorrow?”

“No, Elim, I don’t think so. Not if you’re a good boy.” 

“I’ll be good.”

“Come here. You must be freezing.”

He is cold. He remembers why, now. His pyjama top is in Uncle Enabran’s hand. He rolls over and peers at his mother from his blanket nest. 

“Mila, I broke my pyjamas.” Finally he starts to tear up. “And I lost them.” They were his favourites, with green and pink riding hounds. He loves riding hounds, even though real ones are not green or pink. Green and pink riding hounds are not real. They are pretend, and that’s different from a lie. Most everyone knows what is pretend and not pretend. 

“You did tear them, Elim. But look.” Mila has his top. She shows him the rip at the collar. It isn’t very big. “We can fix this easily. I’ll show you how in the morning. It’ll be good as new.” 

Elim takes a deep breath. He manages to stop crying. If Mila says it will be good as new, then it will be good as new. Mila never lies to him. Maybe she doesn’t know how. He wonders if he should tell her how to lie, how easy it is, then decides not to. If Mila knew how to lie, maybe she’d start lying to Elim. He doesn’t think that would be very nice.

“You need new pyjamas for tonight, though.” Mila gets up and takes a fresh pyjama top from his drawer. It’s another favourite, black with silver moons on it. “Do you want me to help you?” 

“No!” What a question. He’s far too big to have his mother help him with his pyjamas. He is out of the blanket and has the top slipped over his head quick as can be, to prove to Mila that he can do it. He fastens the neck catch, which is shaped like a smiling silver moon and made of metal. He used to need help with this part, but not now. “Mila, now I need the bottoms, please,” he says. 

“Are you sure? You’re just going to sleep in them. What does it matter?” 

“They aren’t the same!” Can’t she see? Black and silver are completely different from pink and green. Riding hounds are different from moons, because riding hounds are animals and moons are...he’s not sure what moons are, exactly, but they aren’t animals. And finally, his riding hounds are pretend colours, but his moons are silver, just like the real moon. Of course he can’t wear them together. 

“Alright, Elim, alright.” Mila gets the moon bottoms out and Elim puts them on. Mila folds the riding hound bottoms neatly and puts them together with the ripped top on Elim’s dresser. 

Elim yawns. He gets under the blanket. Mila sits beside him on the bed and rubs his back. It’s very nice and he closes his eyes.

“Elim, your Uncle Enabran wasn’t hurting me tonight.” 

“It looked scary, Mila.”

“Maybe it looked scary, but it wasn’t scary for me. Or for Uncle. It’s a kind of pretending that’s only for adults. Uncle would never hurt me.”

“Oh. Not pretending for children?” He hadn’t known that adults like to pretend too. 

“No, definitely not for children. And it’s a secret, Elim. You can’t tell anyone about what you saw. It’s a secret between me, you, and Uncle.” 

“I won’t tell, Mila.” He knows about secrets. They are a little bit like lies, except you can tell everyone a lie, but you can’t tell anyone a secret. He likes secrets, and he is good at keeping them. He and Mila have secrets that he doesn’t tell Uncle, and he, Uncle, and Mila have secrets that they don’t tell anyone else. Like who comes to visit Uncle in his office upstairs. He doesn’t tell anyone those secrets, not even Rokan next door.

His mind drifts as Mila rubs his back. Rokan is a boy his age, and they are very alike, except that Rokan has lots of brothers and sisters and they all live upstairs in his house, and his mother works in an office somewhere outside the house like Uncle does. Elim’s mother works in Uncle’s house and she’s always at home, so Elim doesn’t need a nanny like Rokan and his siblings do. Rokan has a father, too. His father’s name is Gul Ultak and he is a Gul like in the holostories. That means he has a ship and flies it in space. Rokan’s father works on Bajor, which is a planet like Cardassia Prime, except only a few Cardassians live there. Instead of Cardassians there are people called Bajorans, who look funny and have no scales or ridges. Elim has seen holos of Bajorans, but he has never seen a real person who is a Bajoran. Or a person who is not a Cardassian. He thinks a Bajoran would be a scary person to meet, because they are always trying to kill Cardassians. That’s what Rokan says, anyway. He says his father has almost been killed by Bajorans lots of times. 

A thought occurs to him.

“Mama, does everyone have a father?” He knows it’s babyish to call her Mama, but right now he doesn’t care. 

“Yes, Elim. Most everyone.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Grandfather Garak is my father.”

“And Auntie Pembra?” 

“Grandfather Garak is her father too.”

“Oh. And Uncle Enabran?” This is bold, what he’s asking. He knows he’s not supposed to ask too much about Uncle. It has something to do with secrets. Uncle has a lot of secrets that he can’t tell Elim or even Mila sometimes. But maybe Grandfather Garak is Uncle Enabran’s father too.

“No, Grandfather Garak is not Uncle’s father. Let’s not talk about Uncle Enabran.”

“Do I have a father?”

“Your father is dead, Elim.”

“Oh.” It has never occurred to Elim that he might have a father before now. If his father is dead, that’s a sad thing. “Are you sad?”

“A little. But we have your Uncle Enabran to help us.”

“Did Bajorans kill my father?”

“No.”

“Oh. Mila, if my father stops being dead one day, will he come back to us? And Uncle Enabran go away?” 

Mila stops rubbing his back. Elim looks up at her to see if he can tell why. He can’t. She just looks sad. But they’re talking about being dead, and it’s sad when people are dead, so it’s normal for Mila to look sad.

“Elim, people don’t stop being dead.” She resumes rubbing Elim’s back. “Once you’re dead, you’re dead forever.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t been sure about that. Sometimes on his holostories the dead people stop being dead. But now he knows that is pretend, like pink and green riding hounds. “You’d be sad if I was dead.” 

“Yes, I would. Very sad.”

“Would you be sad if Uncle Enabran was dead?”

“Yes, Elim, I would.”

“Very sad?”

“Yes.”

“Then I won’t kill him, Mama.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. Close your eyes, baby. Go to sleep.”

“I’m not a baby,” he says, but he closes his eyes. Maybe sometimes, at night, it’s okay to be his mother’s baby.

**Author's Note:**

> That got Oedipal fast...
> 
> Comments and criticisms are very welcome!


End file.
